Revived Lines
by Roxanne Clara Merrett
Summary: *AU* What do you do when you wake up and everything you thought you knew has changed? Well, if you're Hermione Granger, you get to the bottom of it. But maybe knowledge isn't always the best thing. Dramione pairing. Beta Reader: Freya Ishtar Cover by Freya Ishtar
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

**This is an AU centering around pureblood!Hermione. This prologue shows how she is integrated into Muggle Society. The time line in this story is five years ahead, meaning the characters we all know and love are five years old when Voldemort is defeated the first time, and past that all runs normally, meaning that the events of the books all run when they're 11–17 years old.**

**PROLOGUE**

"Something isn't right, Severus . . . ."

"I should say. You've betrothed your four-year-old daughter to Malfoy's child."

"You _know_ what I mean. As for the engagement, it's pure-blood tradition. You know my father would be livid if I didn't."

"Don't start, Acrisius. You were the best Defence Against the Dark Arts student Hogwarts has seen in _ages,_ you can't tell me your father scares you."

"Many things scare me, little cousin. I fear for my daughter. Should anything happen to Regina—"

"I know, I know, you wouldn't know what to do. As though I've not heard _that_ line before."

"I am _serious,_ Severus! I have already lost her mother, I can't lose her too."

"Relax Acrisius, Regina will be fine. Besides, I hear rumors about a boy destined to defeat the Dark Lord."

"Then he better do it quickly."

"Patience, he still has to grow up."

"He doesn't have time to grow up. This world needs a savior—_my_ _daughter_ needs one—now.

"Acrisius . . . if you want to save your daughter, then do it."

* * *

><p><strong>One Year Later<strong>

"Where are we going, Daddy?"

Acrisius was silent as he stole through the deserted streets of the Muggle world, his little girl clutched desperately in his arms.

"Daddy?"

He could hear the fright seeping into her tone. If her fear grew too much, she would cry and that was attention he could not afford to have drawn to them. With gentle, soothing strokes, he gently slid his fingers through her dark tresses.

"It's okay, Regina, Daddy's here," he murmured. A sigh of relief pushed past his lips as they came upon their destination.

In that little Muggle neighborhood, just outside the only house still lit, a couple stood. They watched the pair of wizarding folk approach cautiously.

"Acrisius, what's going on?" the woman asked.

"You haven't been clear with us from the beginning," the man said, his tone accusatory.

"I know and I apologize. I can't explain right now, I simply need you to trust me. Please, this is the safest place for my daughter. I will do _anything,"_ he begged.

The couple looked upon him in pity, yet also in friendship. There was no need for begging.

"Daddy!" Regina sobbed as she suddenly buried her face against his robes. "Don't leave me, Daddy!" She may have been young, but she could pick up on anxiety in the air and between the words spoken.

Acrisius' heart tore as he listened to the cries wracking his daughter's small form. He knew what this must seem horribly unfair to her, but he wanted nothing more than her safety. Now that the Dark Lord had it out for the young Prince heir, Regina would _never_ be safe with him.

Holding his daughter close against his chest, he reluctantly knelt down and set her in the last traces of snow from the quickly fading winter. He had to pry her from his robes so that he might pull her away just far enough to look into her eyes. All the while, he wondered how love could hurt so much.

"Regina, princess . . . Daddy has to go away for a while. These kind people are going to look after you while I'm gone."

"But I want _you_ to look after me."

"I know sweetheart, but I _can't._ It isn't safe."

"But I love you, daddy!"

"I know, and I love you too. That is why I _have_ to leave."

Regina's tiny face scrunched in an expression that was a mix of pain and confusion as she gazed into her father's eyes. How could he claim to love her and then leave her with total strangers? That didn't make sense of any sort to her.

Acrisius reached up to gently tangle his fingers in his little girls' unruly hair, twin tears sliding down his cheeks.

_You_ have _to_ _do this. For Regina._

As Acrisius stood, he looked to the Muggle couple standing before him. Though Regina reached for him, they restrained her. With a knot in his stomach and a lump in his throat, he drew his wand from his robes and pointed it to his daughter.

"Daddy?"

Acrisius wavered, staring into his daughter's terrified gaze. And then . . . .

"Restituo."

Regina shielded her face from the light emanating from her father's wand, but it made no difference. As her memories slipped from the grasps of her mind, the world around her went black and she fell into the numb trance of unconsciousness.

Acrisius slowly lowered his wand and shut his eyes tight. His daughter, his little princess wouldn't know him anymore, not for a long time, if _ever _at all.

"Will she be alright?" the woman—who now held Regina's unconscious form in her arms—asked.

"A little disoriented perhaps, but no damage has been done," Acrisius assured her as he gently stroked Regina's hair from her face. "She will need a new name. Nobody can ever know that she is Regina Prince. I will place a glamour charm on her to mask her appearance until her eighteenth birthday."

Acrisius stared at Regina's face for several moments, memorizing every detail of the porcelain doll in her new mother's arms.

"Take care of her," he murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead in one final kiss before he whispered the incantation for the glamour charm.

He did not dare look at her after the spell took effect. He wanted to remember his daughter for who she was, not who she was turning into.

Without another word to the couple taking in his child, he disappeared into the night.

The couple watched as Acrisius vanished, leaving his precious daughter with them. They exchanged a glance, then looked down to Regina as they walked towards their home.

"Acrisius said she needed a new name," the man pointed out as his gaze lifted to his wife.

"That he did," she agreed. "And her name will be Hermione."

"Hmm . . . Hermione Granger. Fitting."

* * *

><p><strong>Two Days Later<strong>

"Are you certain?"

"Are you accusing me of deceit, Lucius? This _is_ my cousin we're talking about."

There was an undeniable tension in the air between the two men over the topic discussed. Severus Snape stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his fingers drumming against his elbows impatiently.

Lucius Malfoy on the other hand was thinking, calculating. "Alright. Acrisius is dead. What of Regina?"

"She is nowhere to be found. I can only assume she has been killed as well," Severus answered as he watched the older Death Eater before him.

In the other room, Narcissa could hear the conversation they tried to keep from her and her son. While she could not say she would miss the noise that was brought about when the Prince heiress visited, she had to admit to herself she was disappointed that her son had just lost his best friend and his betrothed in one fell swoop. Not that he even understood what the word betrothed meant, yet.

"Mother, when is Gina coming over?" little Draco asked as he gazed up at his mother.

"She's not coming, dear. Regina is gone," Narcissa said softly as she stroked Draco's short, platinum locks.

"When is she coming back?"

"She . . . she isn't. She's gone . . . away, somewhere."

"Oh . . . ." He didn't understand his mother's tone. So Regina was on a trip? Weren't journey's supposed to be fun? "I hope she's happy."

"I'm sure she is Draco, I'm sure she is."

**Author's Note:**

**Yep, Hermione is the last remaining member of the Prince Family Legacy, Severus—who will come in during a later chapter as he is still alive in this AU—not included of course.**

**"Restituo" is the Latin word for replace. It is the incantation I will be using across my HP Fics for the False Memory Charm.**

**And last but not least, many thanks to my wonderful Beta Reader, Freya Ishtar! She's helped me out very much with this Prologue and with my other stories. Go check out her stories because she is an ****_amazing _****author!**


	2. Unexpected Changes

Chapter 1

Sudden Changes

"Ginny, this is _serious_!" Hermione moaned. The young witch was sitting on her friend's bed in the Burrow, her legs tucked up under her as she leaned against the wall.

"I know, but would you stop panicking? We're never going to figure this out if you don't _calm_ _down_," Ginny reasoned with a heavy sigh.

Hermione had been at the Burrow for an hour and so far all she'd done was freak out. This was a side of her that Ginny did not see often, and it worried her. However, it didn't make her think her best friend was over reacting any less.

"How can I calm down? I would love to know," Hermione growled sarcastically.

"You could start by taking a deep breath."

"Shut up, you know what I mean."

A whine echoed from the back of Hermione's throat as she reached up to rub her temples. As her hair fell over her shoulders to be caught in her line of site, she scowled, wishing she could just jinx it into oblivion.

"I don't know, it looks kind of nice on you," Ginny offered as she reached forward to experimentally stroke Hermione's hair. "And it's nowhere _near_ as bushy as it was. Still thick and a bit unruly maybe, but better than before. I'm surprised you're not happy about that."

"_Ginny, _my hair is _black_! I could be Harry's sister like this!" Hermione snorted in frustration as she glared at the witch beside her.

"Nah, you don't have the eyes for being Harry's sister," Ginny said with a definitive shake of her head. She knew Hermione wasn't in the mood for humor—she was rarely _in the mood _for humor—but she seriously needed to calm down.

"Damn right I don't, my eyes are bloody amber!" Hermione shouted in frustration. In her panicked annoyance, she ended up tugging hard at her hair as she buried her face in her knees.

"Again, I think it suits you."

"But it's _not_ me!"

"Then who is it?"

"How am I supposed to know? I went to bed looking normal and woke up three inches taller with all . . . this!" Hermione huffed as she gestured to her hair and face.

"And what do you think caused it?" Ginny asked calmly. If Hermione could get a grip on herself, it would be fairly simple from there to nudge her towards the right answer.

"A . . . jinx or a hex. That's all it could be, someone playing a joke," Hermione told herself convincingly.

Seeing movement from the corner of her eye, she looked over to see Ginny stand up. After the younger witch drew her wand, Hermione held in a breath without realizing it.

"Finite Incantatem."

One second. Two. Three. Hermione stared and stared at the dark locks she felt could never be hers and panic rose up, all over again "Oh Merlin Gin, what if I'm stuck like this _forever_?"

"Bloody hell woman, you're _not_ going to be stuck like that forever," Ginny snapped as her patience wore out for Hermione's pity party. "If someone or something is causing this to happen, a Healer at St. Mungo's can take care of it."

A Healer! Why hadn't Hermione thought of that? She wasn't technically sick, but surely there was something that could be done? Of course there was! She wouldn't leave that hospital until they had changed her back into herself, she'd already decided.

"You're right, I just need to go to St. Mungo's. Everything will be fine . . . " Hermione said, forcing a deep, calming breath through her lungs. "Thanks Ginny, you're a life saver."

Ginny rolled her eyes. _Hardly, _she thought. "Don't forget your birthday dinner or mum's going to have a fit! You only turn eighteen once, y'know," she called after Hermione's retreating form.

**Author's Note:**

**You guys are awesome! Thanks so much for all the views and the reviews :) Well, you guys wanted more, so here you go. I'll be working on A Beast in the Night and another special project for now, but you can expect another update for this within the week.**

**I want to thank my awesome beta Freya Ishtar for helping out with ironing out the little details, and my good friend Bamon for giving me the challenge to write this fix. Go check out both their works, they are **_**amazing **_**authors!**


	3. Unhelpfully Helpful

**Chapter Two**

Unhelpfully Helpful

Hermione had to pause, take a deep breath, and force herself to remain calm. Panicking would not help her situation at all.

"What do you mean there's nothing you can do?" she asked. The calmness in her voice was painfully clear and her face a careful mask of indifference as she observed the witch behind the front desk.

"I'm sorry Miss Granger, but from the information you've given us, there is nothing that suggests a malicious spell or potion. This is a hospital_, _for wizards and witches who are _actually_ sick or ailing. You have a perfect bill of health," the desk-witch explained, her expression deadpan, her tone flat and empty.

Hermione had a sneaking suspicion those words were rehearsed, but like her fears of someone changing her on purpose for some devious intent, she had no proof. This only made her more determined to figure out what was going on.

"Isn't there anything you can do? Recommend someone who can help me, _anything_?"

The desk-witch–though mostly masking her annoyance–nearly had enough. She was about to relay the same message to Hermione once more, before a figure passed behind Hermione and paused off to her right.

She held up a finger to indicate to Hermione to be patient before grabbing a scroll and handing it to the figure. "Sir, your appointment for this morning canceled last minute. I tried to owl you, but I see you were already on your way."

Hermione's patience was wearing dangerously thin. She turned to the figure on her left and was fully prepared to chew him out for stealing the attention of the desk-witch. However, she was not prepared for the sight that met her eyes. "_Malfoy_?"

"Healer Malfoy, yes, who's asking?" Draco asked in little more than a murmur as he looked over the scroll.

When the dumbstruck Hermione had not answered him, he lifted his gaze to hers and paused. He opened his mouth as though to speak, but finding nothing intelligent or snide to say he promptly closed it. His gaze drifted over Hermione, he stepped back, looked her over _again, _and then found his voice.

"Since when did you become a Potter family reject?" he asked, pointedly eyeing her black hair. It wasn't the only family with black hair, but it was the first that came to his mind that _wasn't _somewhere among his family tree.

Hermione still had yet to get over her shock, though her eyes were focused less on her former school rival and more on his lime green robes and the bone-and-wand insignia they bared. "You're a Healer," she stated, despite the fact that he had said that just moments before.

"Am I? I hadn't noticed." Draco responded as he looked down at his robes.

Hermione flushed in a mixture of anger and disconcertment as she glared at Draco. Great, as if this day wasn't bad enough as it was. "Aren't you a little young to be a Healer?" she asked, trying to save what was left of her sensibility.

"My superiors don't seem to think so," Draco replied evenly.

He found Hermione's sudden changes . . . unnerving. For one, with only a little less than three centimeters in height separating her from him now, he found it much harder to look down on her. And there was something about her that pulled on very old memories. _Get your head on straight Draco, or next thing _you'll _be the next patient in the Janus Thickey Ward._

Hermione expected a more in depth answer to her question, but when it became clear she was not going to get one, she huffed and shook her head. "Never mind, I have to go," she said, biting back a growl in her voice.

"What were you here for?" he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Why do you care?" Her stress levels had skyrocketed past their maximum, and her patience had been ground to dust. She did not need this.

"I'm a Healer. It's my job to help people," he answered, not letting himself give any rise to her frustration.

She began to feel bad. Draco was being nothing but civil and she was persecuting him for it. She should be better than that! "I . . . I was trying to figure out what caused _this_," she said softly, motioning to herself for clarification.

"Well you see, when a mummy and daddy love each other very much—" Draco was cut off by his own snickering at the infuriated glare Hermione sent his way. "Okay, all right, I'm sorry. I promise, nothing but professionalism from now on," he insisted, though he couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from twitching in amusement as he watched her newly-amber eyes roll.

"Why?" Hermione asked, a wearied sigh pushing past her lips.

"Why what?" Draco's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Why do _you_ want to help me?"

Draco shrugged lightly as he gaze down at Hermione. "As I said, it's my job. I've nothing scheduled until later this afternoon and if this _is _the result of a curse or hex, it would fall in my department anyway." In way of explanation, nodded to the scroll on the counter, which had _Fourth Floor – Spell Damage _scrawled across the top. "Besides, I need to do something to repay all my misdeeds in the War. Why not start with this?" he asked rhetorically, his voice softer than it had been.

Hermione was truly stunned speechless by Draco's reasoning, though she was far from naive enough to simply go along with it. However, he was actually _willing _to help her. She doubted she could very easily find someone else that would try to figure out what was wrong with her.

With a drawn-out, reluctant sigh, she finally nodded. "Alright. Lead the way, Healer Malfoy."

Draco silently regarded Hermione for a few moments, trying to read her, but finding himself unable to. He was missing something, some crucial piece of information, yet he had no clue what that might be. That bothered him to no end, but he refused to let it show.

Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek as Draco examined her and part of her panicked. What if Draco decided it wasn't worth his time to help her? What if he decided he'd have a better chance of getting his parents to like Muggles than figure out what was wrong with her? The panic had just started to cross onto her face when Draco cleared his throat and nodded to the lift.

Without a word, the strange pair weaved their way through the small crowd gathered near the lift. They just managed to step into one before the doors slid closed and it began a crawling ascent.

The silence between them grew uncomfortable to Hermione by the time they reached the fourth floor. They made their way through the corridors and into an empty room, which she noted had Draco's name on the door.

She didn't really know what what she was expecting when she found that the room was—in essence—Draco's office, but what she actually saw stunned her. This was a space belonging to Draco _Malfoy. _On principle it would seem like this required lavish furnishings and ornaments, but it wasn't like that.

The prat who got everything he wanted by crying to his father had grown into a professional Healer, and his work space showed that very well. It was quite Spartan in nature; what few furnishings occupied the room were clean and organized.

There was nothing on the walls, save a bookcase behind Draco's desk that spanned the entire length and height of the wall. So many scrolls and books and tomes, Hermione could only imagine all the knowledge they held.

"How did all this start anyway?" Draco finally asked.

Hermione was startled from her thoughts at the sudden voice, her attention snapping over to Draco in an instant. He wasn't looking at her, but he had already pulled a scroll or two from his bookcase. She glanced toward the comfortable-looking white chairs which faced his desk. Thinking how awkward she would feel taking a seat without an invitation, she opted to stand where she was, instead.

"I don't know, to be honest. I just woke up, and I was like this."

"Hmm . . . . Is this date significant for any reason?"

"Well, it's my birthday."

"Oh really? What year?

"Is that really—"

"Necessary? Yes Miss Granger, it is." He only blinked a few times when his address of her was met with a startled expression. "And don't look at me like that. Professionalism, remember? I call _all _my patients by their appropriate titles. Now, your birthday, what year?"

"It's my eighteenth."

"Interesting . . . ."

Draco considered the information she gave him for a few minutes, examining and reexamining a few various scrolls. He couldn't think of many spells that could have caused this, even fewer that had that kind of time table. After all, wizards and witches were considered adults at seventeen. Most spells targeted them at that point, not an entire year later.

The longer Draco searched, the more hope slipped through Hermione's fingers. If he was going to uncover something, wouldn't he have done so by now? The panic started all over again. There was nothing that could be done for her.

She would be like this _forever_.

"I'm sorry Miss Granger, but I can find no curse, jinx, or hex to match the information you've given."

His words had delivered a crippling blow, even though he had not meant them to. Hermione slowly stood up, her throat drying up as she nodded to Draco. "Thank you for your time, Healer Malfoy," she said politely.

She had turned towards the exit to leave when Draco spoke up again. "Miss Granger?"

"Yes?" She asked, her voice quick and hopeful as she turned back to him. Had he found something after all?

Draco met her gaze and she knew it wasn't true. His eyes were filled with a rather un-Malfoy-like compassion and apology. "Happy birthday."

"Oh . . . thank you, Draco." She said, though a disappointed sigh permeated her voice. As she turned back to the door made her exit, she wondered . . . .

Had she_ really _seen the ghost of a smile she thought she had gracing Draco's lips?

**Author's Note:**

**Yay, the next chapter to my most read story! There was a lot more I had originally planned to add, but you'll all have to wait a few extra chapters to find out what it was ;)**

**Once again, thanks to my awesome Beta, Freya Ishtar. I'm telling you guys, she is the reason my writing is as good as it is. All my tiny flaws are being sanded down with her help, and I cannot express how much I appreciate her enough.**

**Until next time, make guesses, tell me what you love about this story, tell me what you hate about this story, read my other stories and do the same, expect a few days delay for chapter updates, and have a wonderful day, and a very Happy New Year :)**


	4. The Inquisitorial Squad

**Chapter 3**

**The Inquisitorial Squad**

"For the last time, I don't know!" Hermione snapped. The harshness of her voice was there one moment and gone the next. She had to take a deep breath to calm herself as the combined forces of Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, and Harry made it there jobs to find out every detail of her trip to the healers.

"Hermione, there has to be some explanation, people don't just change overnight," Harry said. His tone was persuasive as he reached out to place a hand on Hermione's arm, and the now-black-haired witch could only release a weary sigh.

"I know, but I . . . I just can't think of what it could be," Hermione said. "I didn't have time to search any spell books before I came here."

"What did the Healer say?" Mrs. Weasley asked, a worried expression pulling wrinkles to her forehead. Hermione was like a second daughter to her, and seeing her so panicked was not something she was used to.

Hermione hesitated. Should she tell them that Draco Malfoy had been her Healer? It wasn't exactly _lying _if she didn't, just . . . omitting part of the truth. It wasn't really all that important a detail anyway.

Finding her logic in this manner, she cleared her throat and answered Mrs. Weasley's question. "He said he couldn't find anything that matched the conditions of whatever has made me look like this." As another sigh pushed past her lips, she lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug. "He didn't say if he would continue looking or not."

"Well he better! You were barely there for an hour, and you said you were arguing with a desk witch for at least half that time. There's no way that Healer looked into every possibility," Ginny huffed, her arms crossed over her chest. "I say you shouldn't give him a moment of peace until he finds out what's going on."

Ginny may have had an inkling of a point–_maybe_–but Hermione could only shake her head. "I honestly don't think it would do much good, Ginny."

"Well," Mrs. Weasley interjected, "it isn't going to do any good simply worrying about it."

"Mum is right," Ginny said, taking a calming breath as she stood up straighter. "We can discuss things later. For now, let's at least try to enjoy the party with everyone else."

A halfhearted smile forced it's way onto Hermione's expression as she nodded. She may not feel like going through with this party, but Mrs. Weasley had been planning it for weeks now–despite it being a relatively small affair–and she would love nothing more than a reprieve from the stress of the day.

With a silent agreement made, the four silently moved into the adjacent room. Fred and George had been keeping the other Weasley's entertained while Hermione was being interrogated by the Inquisitorial Squad of the house. Whether they knew what was going on or not or had simply started joking around just because they could was anyone's guess.

"Hey, there's the birthday girl!" George said, the grin on his face making Hermione's smile just a bit less forced.

"Now even to _muggles _you're legal. You must be _so_ proud," Fred jested. As Hermione let put a laugh in response, the twins shared an unseen smirk. Their work was done.

The twins continued to provide jokes and pranks for the evening to keep the mood light, even though a single question hung unasked over everyone;

_What happened to Hermione?_

Everyone wanted to know, but nobody dared to ask. There was no telling how their bookworm of a friend would react to the question, but they were willing to bet it wouldn't be anything positive.

So they didn't ask. Everyone put their focus into making it a special day for Hermione, and telling her happy birthday at least twenty times each. Everyone was so wrapped up in their mission, that it wasn't until a heavy knock sounded from the front door that they were shaken from their focus.

"Who could that be?" Ron asked, looking towards the front door of the burrow without moving.

"Who knows," Ginny answered, a shrug lifting her shoulders as she stood up. Walking over to the door, the young witch wasn't really expecting anything in particular. However, what she was met with was something she wouldn't have guessed if it was spelled out in large, green glitter letters.

"Malfoy?"

**Authors Note:**

**Alright, **_**alright**_**! You can have a dang RL update.**

**Seriously guys, thanks so much for the support, and I'm so sorry it took so long to get such a short chapter out. I'll give you a nice long one . . . sometime later to make up for it xD**

**Until then, I would very much appreciate if you guys could check out my other story, Tales of a Suburbanized Deity. I know, it breaks my Harry Potter FanFiction only rule, but, to hell with that rule, I need a change of pace for a few days to reset my creative juices. Still, I'd love some feedback on it, it's still a rather rock conception, and I'd like to see what you guys think . . . despite the fact that I'll be continuing it no matter what xD**

**Also be on the lookout for two new stories coming up here soon ;)**

**With all that said, I'd like too give a shout out to Luna de Papel. She's been here since the–very recent, to be honest-–beginning and has commented on every chapter of this story. Thanks for the constant support, it really helps keep me motivated for this fic :)**


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